NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Lizzy and Diesel are back in a wicked adventure from Janet Evanovich and Emmy Award–winning co-author Phoef Sutton. Before he was murdered and mummified nearly a century ago, notorious bootlegger Collier “Peg Leg” Dazzle discovered and re-hid a famous pirate’s treasure somewhere along the coast of New England. A vast collection of gold and silver coins and precious gems, the bounty also contains the Stone of Avarice—the very item reluctant treasure seeker Lizzy Tucker and her partner, Diesel, have been enlisted to find. While Lizzy would just like to live a quiet, semi-normal life, Diesel is all about the hunt. And this hunt is going to require a genuine treasure map and a ship worthy of sailing the seven seas . . . or at least getting them from Salem Harbor to Maine. Greed is eternal and insatiable, and Lizzy and Diesel aren’t the only ones searching for the lost pirate’s chest. People who have dedicated their entire lives to finding it are willing to commit murder or make a deal with the devil just to hold the fortune in their hands. One of those people may even be Wulf, Diesel’s deceptively charming and enigmatic cousin. Wulf desires the Stone of Avarice. He also desires Lizzy. It’s hard to say how far he’s willing to go to gain either one. Wicked Charms is a swashbuckling adventure full of raiders, monkeys, minions, and mayhem. Lizzy and Diesel are going to have to do everything they can to keep their heads above water and hope they’re living a charmed life. “Delivers what [Janet] Evanovich’s readers have come to expect: laughs, oddball situations, quirky supporting characters, and a dash or two of romance.” — Examiner Janet Evanovich is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Stephanie Plum series, the Fox and O’Hare series with co-author Lee Goldberg, the Lizzy and Diesel series, the Alexandra Barnaby novels and Troublemaker graphic novel, and How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author . Phoef Sutton is a writer, producer, and novelist who has written for shows such as Cheers, News Radio, and Boston Legal . Sutton is also the winner of two Emmy Awards, a Golden Globe, and a Peabody Award. Chapter One My name is Lizzy Tucker, and I live in a small, slightly tilted historic house that sits on a hill overlooking Marblehead Harbor in Massachusetts. I inherited the house from my Great-Aunt Ophelia when I was twenty-eight, and I’m not much older now. I share the house with a tiger-striped shorthaired cat. When he was rescued from the shelter his tag said Cat 7143, and it’s stuck as his name. Cat has one eye, half a tail, and I’m pretty sure he was a ninja in a past life. I’m a Johnson & Wales culinary school graduate, and when I’m not being asked to save the world I work as a pastry chef at Dazzle’s Bakery in Salem. It was ten o’clock at night, Cat and I were watching television in bed, and a big, scruffy, incredibly hot guy walked into my bedroom. “What the heck?” I asked. “Where did you come from?” “Originally? Switzerland, but I was mostly raised in Southern California.” “That’s not what I mean. What are you doing in my bedroom?” He kicked his shoes off. “I’m undressing. And then I’m going to bed.” “No! Not allowed.” “Extenuating circumstance,” he said, peeling off his shirt. “I’m between places of residence.” “I don’t care if you’re between a rock and a hard spot. You can’t stay here.” His jeans hit the floor. “Of course I can. We’re partners.” “We’re not that kind of partners. We work together. We’re not supposed to be . . . you know.” “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I have total self-control.” I leaned forward for a closer look. “Are those parrots on your boxers?” “I got them in Key West. Cool, right?” Okay, I have to admit it. The whole package was cool. The guy’s name is Diesel. That’s it. Only one name. And the name suits him because he plows over you like a freight train. He’s over six feet of hard-muscled male perfection. His dark blond hair is thick and sun-streaked and perpetually mussed. His eyes are brown and unreadable. His smile is like Christmas morning. His attitude is deceptive—casual on the outside but intense on the inside. His moral code is all his own. “All right. You win,” I said, knowing there was no way I could physically remove him. “You can sleep on the couch.” He stuck his thumb into the waistband on his boxers. “I don’t fit on the couch.” “Hey,” I said. “Wait a minute!” Too late. The boxers were on the floor with his shirt and jeans. I clapped my hands over my eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that.” “I sleep nude. Women don’t usually mind.” “I mind!” “I get that,” Diesel said. “Move over.” I have a queen-size bed. Plenty big enough for me and Cat. Not big enough for me and Cat and Diesel. Truth is, I wouldn’t mind getting romantic with Diesel, but we have an odd relationship. Diesel isn’t normal. And it would seem that I’m not normal, either. I thought I was normal until